


Truth

by orphan_account



Series: Childhood Memories [11]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Best Friends, Break Up, Coming Out, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, M/M, Young, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 14:19:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>When Harry is 15 he tells Louis he loves him for the first time.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth

When Harry is 15 he tells Louis he loves him for the first time. It’s been almost six months since they properly spoke to each other, six months since the continuation of their first argument that had been a long time coming, but that had left them both with tears in their eyes as they yelled that they hated each other and stormed off in different directions. For the younger boy at least, it’s been a long six months. Yet now the 17 year old is sat in his kitchen at 2 o’clock in the morning, crying and clutching his hand so hard that it’s starting to go numb. Not that he minds because this is contact and this is progress and, at the end of the day, this is his best friend and he can’t stand to see him looking distraught even after so long. They’ve been sat there in silence for a while, waiting for the kettle to boil as though they’re trying to pretend that this is just an everyday occurrence, but now as they completely ignore the cups of tea in front of them the year 11 knows he has to make some sort of sense of the situation.

“What’s happened, Lou?” he asks in the tone of voice he normally reserves for animals and small children, but that seems to be effective on the older lad too because he manages to stop staring at the table after a minute or two and gives the beginnings of a reply.

“She - Eleanor’s gone, Haz.” It’s been such a long time since he’s heard his friend use the endearing nickname that the younger teen can’t help the way his lips stretch upwards in a rather inappropriate smile when he hears it, but then he finally registers what had just been said.

“She’s gone?” Louis nods, looking down at the table to avoid Harry’s gaze that is supposed to be comforting but is probably coming across as a little interrogating. “D-did she leave you?” Inside his heart is sinking a little because really he doesn’t want this rebuilding of their friendship to simply be the result of his mate being dumped, yet he’s determined to maintain his comforting position in the hope that it will somehow encourage the older boy to take him back, although not, unfortunately, in the way he’d like. This rambling train of thought is cut short abruptly as his companion says exactly what he wasn’t expecting.

“No. I left her.”

“What the fuck?” The other youth flinches at his cry and he castigates himself for being so unsubtle, yet it seems a reasonable enough question - why would his best mate dump the girl he’s claimed to be madly in love with for the past 2 years? “Why did you leave her?” However the answers to his questions don’t appear to be forthcoming any time soon, since his words appear to have caused an increase in the sixth former’s emotional distress. His eyes well with tears that he doesn’t even attempt to blink back as he crushes the pale fingers entwined with his yet more in what seems to be a desperate attempt to avoid having a complete breakdown in the middle of the Styles kitchen. Without even thinking about it, the green eyed lad shifts closer to him and snakes an arm around his shaking shoulders in a wordless gesture of comfort that appears to work a little, since his friend’s breathing slows to a slightly more regular pace as he loosens the death grip on his hand and slowly begins to speak.

“I left her… Harry I left her because, because I’m gay.” His voice is barely a whisper and Harry has to strain his ears to hear the final word, and his determination not to gasp quickly deserts him when he finally realises what he’s just heard. Quickly trying to turn the noise into a cough, he decides to ignore the niggling doubts and worries that are currently whizzing around his mind at a hundred miles an hour and uses the arm he has positioned around Louis’ shoulders to pull the older boy to his chest in a warm hug. Once again they’re reminded of how long it’s been since they’ve engaged in this most simple of activities as they pause awkwardly in the embrace, before they both seem to simultaneously decide to forget the past and collapse into one another like they used to when they were younger and everything was going wrong, arms wrapping around each other’s backs and faces buried into each other’s shoulders so the younger man can smell the Yorkshire tea and slight hint of cologne that is the friend he’s missed so much. While he holds the year 12 like the physical act will keep their crumbling lives and certainties intact, he whispers the words he hopes to God will help into his hair: _‘it’s ok’, ‘it’s fine’, ‘don’t worry about it’, ‘I don’t mind’, ‘it’s all going to be ok.’_ And they must be having some sort of positive effect because he can feel the half-smile that the other teenager presses into his neck, which convinces him that this was the right thing to do. Eventually after what feels like hours they break apart, their bodies cooling rapidly from the sudden loss of contact, and he realises that his companion has stopped crying and no longer even looks worried, just happy and a little bemused as though he’s unsure what is happening but is willing to roll with it for now. Tentatively, the 15 year old speaks up into the silence, daring to breach the subject that caused this situation in the first place.

“So you really are gay then?” He’s aware that from anyone else this would sound like an accusation or a lack of belief, but he’s hoping that Louis knows him well enough to realise that it’s a genuine question.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.” If he’s honest, Harry’s scared to ask the next question for fear of receiving the wrong (or even the right) answer, but he does so anyway since there’s little else he can say under the circumstances.

“How - how do you know?” One look is all it takes: a single look that passes between them for just a few seconds and yet manages to say everything they’ve both kept hidden for so long and are only now finally finding themselves able to confront. To the younger boy, it feels like all he’s ever wanted has just come true, because really all he’s ever wanted is the young man who’s sat next to him right now, looking scared and amazing and ecstatic at the same time. So that’s why he says the words he’s always wanted to let lose but that have been trapped inside him all these years. “I love you.”

Over the course of the early morning there are more tears and confessions and apologies than in the rest of their practically lifelong friendship, and by the end of it Harry knows he truly means it. And when at 7 in the morning the older lad finally says those three immortal words too, neither of them can understand why they left it so long.


End file.
